Shallow Words
by Timesprite
Summary: Set several months after the events in 'Lost in a Gunshot'


Shallow Words

Disclaimer: Neither Cable, Domino, nor any other related characters mentioned herein belong to me, they're Marvel's, I'm just borrowing. 

This is an indirect sequel to 'Lost in a Gunshot,' of sorts. It doesn't deal directly with the events of this fic much other than establishing the state of affairs, but it's probably a wise idea to read that one first. As always, that, and all my other fics are available on my website. This is rated PG-13, for language, mostly. Thanks go out to *takes a breath* Threnody, A.J., Cosmic, Kaleko, and Lynxie, all of who saw this at one point or another and offered pillows as I attempted to brain myself in frustration. 

Shallow Words 

"So..." 

"So what?" 

"Forget it." 

"Fuck. I asked. So what?" 

"Nothing." 

"Asshole." 

"Feel better now?" 

"No." 

"What are you so angry at?" 

She hung her arms over her knees and stared at him through the tangle of her hair. "Who says I'm angry at anything?" 

"I do." 

"You do. And when the fuck did you get to be an expert on what I'm feeling? When have you ever given a shit?" 

"I'm asking aren't I?" 

She got up and brushed grass from her jeans. "Tough. I'm not telling." 

"Thought we were past that." 

"We," she laughed. "Since when has there been a 'we' here? Years, Nate. I thought you were brighter than that." 

"Then why the hell do you keep coming back?" He snapped. He'd promised himself he wasn't going to get angry. She wasn't giving him a choice, though. 

"You fucking know why." 

"Really? Enlighten me, Dom." 

"Because we're like... what the hell are they called--those damned stars that come in pairs. And we just keep spinning around each other in a fucked up orbit because without the other we'd go winging out into the void someplace. Both of us lost." She shielded her eyes and stared up at the sun. "That's why." 

---- 

"There some sort of personal vendetta that you have with the wall?" He grabbed her wrist firmly as she swung at him instead. "Is there a reason you're vandalizing my drywall?" 

She jerked her arm but he held fast, only to land hard as she kicked his legs out from under him. Never mind that he still had hold of her wrist so that she wound up falling on top of him. "Yes." 

"Reason being?" He asked, unfazed. If Dom had really wanted to hurt him, she would have. 

"I can't _shoot_ you," she hissed back, shoving hair out of her face with her free hand. 

He grabbed her other wrist and pulled her down on top of him so that their faces were only inches apart. "And why's that?" 

"Because I used to love you." 

---- 

"I died, you know," she said, her tone as casual as if she'd remarked on the weather. It didn't disguise the bitter glint in her eyes. "Woman gunned down in the middle of a crowded Paris street. No one saw or heard a thing. Then her body mysteriously vanishes from the morgue." She laughed mirthlessly. "It was all over the papers." Agile fingers quickly re-buttoned her shirt. She'd never been much for post-coital moments. She'd never been much for formalities at all. Half-dressed and against a wall had always been better than dinner-and-a-movie, in her opinion. After all this time, at least he still knew how she liked her sex. She looked up at him. "You never wondered?" 

"I wasn't going to ask," he replied, pulling on his tee-shirt. 

"No, I suppose you wouldn't." 

---- 

"I know I shouldn't come here. I shouldn't be hanging onto things that are gone, but I have to, y'know? At least you're angry with me. At least you can understand. Funny, I hate the world because it killed me, and you hate it because it _didn't_" The light hit her eyes in a way that made them almost transparent, as colorless and cold as the rest of her. "I was a fucking guinea pig. They used me to get what they wanted; it killed me in the process. And I got a glimpse of what comes after. There's nothing there, Nate. I'd always clung to the vain hope that there'd be something else after. Some sort of justification. But there isn't. Life is all there is, and then it's over. And I don't have anything worth living for.  
"All the dreams I ever had were stillborn. They never had the chance. Barely a breath between them, and some nights I lay there and stare at the darkened ceiling, and I can see all those tombs. All the 'me's that never had a chance. A graveyard of futile possibilities. And there's a stone there with your name on that haunts me the most. So I come here even when I shouldn't, because even if we hardly tolerate each other, you let me know that I'm alive." 

"And yet you never try to make things better," he murmured. "Are you that enamored of your misery, Dom? I don't appreciate being used. I've had quite enough of that in my life as is." 

"That's a laugh," she snapped, eyes sparking. "Like you never used me--all those times you called, I came. I could have let you go, Nathan. I could have never forgiven you for shooting Hammer, for betraying us all--or for using Vanessa... and I know. I know that you didn't know, couldn't have known, but you used her. You got from her everything that you never could get from me, because she was eager to please, and I've never been." 

"That's a very convenient excuse," he shot back. 

---- 

"God, I should be able to enjoy this. The only thing worse than being an aging mercenary is being an aging _female_ mercenary, and I'd really gotten to the point where I didn't think I could deal with it anymore. Now here I am. I've had my body and my brain fucked with on more than one occasion, and now what? Another fifteen years tacked onto my life?  
"There was a time when I wanted more for us. When I would have willingly snatched up an opportunity like this--doesn't it strike you as ironic? We've had years taken off both our lives, the obstacles and obligations of the past are _gone_, and we're both too fucked up to take advantage of it." 

---- 

"You remember Benton Haisler, don't you? He worked with us on joint operations for a while. Thirteen years ago, he offered me a job. I turned him down." She smiled, her face contorting into something horrific, dangerous. Or just sad. "I heard from him last year. He's got children, Nate. Two boys, five and eight. He's got a life. If," she sighed, continuing, her voice full of emotion of some kind, "if I'd taken that job--" 

"You'd be dead. Mercenaries, three months ago." Nate's reply was cold. 

"Shit," she ran a hand back through her hair. "So is that your point, Nathan? The reason you're still living like this? You think we can't _have_ normal lives? Because, correct me if I'm wrong, but the last thing you said to me before basically confirming that there _was_ no room for me in your life, was to tell me that we may not be ordinary people... but we can work to change it. We can try to be something other than what we _have_ been, Nathan. And you know what? I think you're just a coward," she said scathingly. "I think you're afraid to even _try_ because you're just so damned certain that you'll lose it all again. Poor Nathan Dayspring, lost his wife, his son, and now he won't even try to make his life his own. I've got news, in case you hadn't heard. Apocalypse is dead, Nate. They're _all_ dead." She watched with a grim sort of satisfaction as his posture went ridged, his face expressionless save for the baleful flash of his left eye. 

"I think you'd better go now." 

She smiled at him coldly. "Maybe I should. But I won't. We're trapped in a cycle here, you're right. You've said it before, and it's not healthy for either one of us. So I'm not going to let this go, Nathan. If you want me gone, you're going to have to _make_ me go." 

"Dom, don't--" he said, voice low; a warning. 

"Don't what, Nate?" She grinned ferally, "Say things that you're too fucking scared to admit to? Well, guess what: I already did." 

---- 

"Do you hate me?" She dropped down into the grass next to him and propped herself up on her elbows. "Well?" 

He took a long swallow of his beer and looked up at the sky. "Never." 

She made a small noise of acknowledgment and took the bottle he offered her. A strong breeze hissed through the treetops. "Do you love me?" She set the bottle carefully in the grass. His head tipped sideways, eyes locking on hers as clouds raced over the sun and dimmed the sky. 

---- 

"You had your shot, Nathan. That's what this all comes down to. You had it, and it's not my fault that Stryfe took it away from you! I was ready--oh God. That day in the future, I sat there with the crosshairs of my scope centered, ready...  
"I had all my hate balled up in the pit of my stomach. I wanted to save you. It wasn't about Aliya or Tyler. It wasn't about your clan or any of those people who suffered in your time, Nathan. It was about saving _you._ I didn't give a fuck about the rest. I didn't even care about myself. And you stopped me. You wouldn't let me save you, Nathan. So why do you punish me for it?" 

---- 

"I've done all the talking here," she said, staring up at the ceiling. "Haven't you got anything to say?" 

"I think you're hurt, Dom. I think that life hurt you badly, and you never healed. And you're looking for me to validate your anger." He put his arms behind his head and looked over at her. "You're looking for justification." 

"Justification." She pursed her lips, propping herself up on an elbow to look at him. "Maybe. I want... something here. I think I want a rematch," she smiled wryly. 

"Rematch? Is that what this is, a fight?" 

"You don't think so?" 

"I think it's hard to have a one-sided argument." 

"That's because you won't fight back, damnit," she snapped, punching him in the arm before she fell back on the pillows. "Don't you even care?" 

"That you're effectively throwing yourself at walls here? I care, but there's not a hell of a lot I can do about it." 

"What would you do if I just walked away?" 

"We're both adults, Dom. If you want to leave, I'm not going to stop you." 

She aimed a kick at his leg. "Bastard." 

"I'm not going to hit you back." 

"Why the hell not?" She growled angrily. 

"Because I'm not the one who tore you open like this, and I'm not going to give you a reason to direct your hate at me any more than you already have. Something's obviously seriously wrong here, Dom. I'll help, you just have to tell me what the hell is going on with you." He reached over and put a hand on her shoulder. "I _want_ to help." She glared at him, then rolled over on her side, back towards him. "Great. Just... Oath, is this some sort of flonqing _game_ with you? It's only fair if I get just as pissed off as you are? Because believe me, I am. If you think I'm not angry that this is the way we ended up..." He slid over and wrapped his arms around her waist. "Stop being so obstinate and just tell me what's wrong?" 

"Maybe I had an epiphany of sorts," she said, sitting up. "Maybe I just got really drunk and suddenly realized that if I died, you and the kids are the only ones who'd notice. You're the only people who'd care if I weren't here anymore, and I don't even have you in my life now. And maybe I just stood at the window of my ugly little apartment on the sixth floor and stared down at the street and wondered if the fall would kill me."  
She climbed out of the bed and went to the window, staring out it for a moment before turning to face him, silver moonlight sliding over her skin and catching in the unruly mane of her hair. "Wondered if maybe I wouldn't come back this time. Because some day it's going to happen, Nathan. Some day I'll catch a bullet and I won't get back up again. And I thought, what a pathetic way to die." She closed her eyes and leaned against the windowsill, head resting against the glass. 

"I--messed a lot of things up here. I made a lot of really stupid decisions, ran away when maybe I should have stood my ground. And I just stared out that window and thought about how pointless it all was. It was always about survival; it was always about getting through the next day. And you know what, I don't think I did. Survive, that is. I think I've been dead for a very long time." 

"I can't fix that." 

"I'm not asking you to!" She shouted. "I--God..." She slid down the wall and sat there on the floor, arms around her legs, forehead resting on the tops of her knees. "Fuck." 

He half-sat up, looking down at her from the bed. "Are you okay?" 

"No, I am not fucking okay!" She stared at him for a moment, then let her head drop back down. "I feel so empty," she sighed. "I was going through things... I found that letter from Benton, found the pictures of his kids and I--" She took a shaky breath. "It's like life was mocking me. I could have had--" Her voice caught for an instant, barely perceptible. "For a moment I almost had it, we almost..." Her head tipped back, focusing on the ceiling. "I'm sorry, Nathan," she whispered. 

"Dom?" He got up and kneeled down beside her. "What--" 

"Nate, I--" Her eyes locked on his own. Images assailed him, piercing the cold of their dead psilink like a fleet of white-hot arrows. Emotions held him riveted, a cataclysmic outpouring. 

Shock, trepidation, fear mixed with the strangest hint of joy.  
Uncertainty. Life moving past in a haze of doubt. 

Pain, sudden, sharp, rending and horrific. One fleet, terrible moment of realization, a desperate prayer thrown out to a god whose existence she doubted. Darkness. 

Light, bright white, blinding. Sharp, unmistakable scent of antiseptic. Someone talking, low, half heard through ears stopped by denial. 

"...sorry... ...hemorrhage... ...controlled..." 

Loss that hit like a physical blow. Hollow, burning, directionless anger.   
Grief so heavy it pulled her down.   
More words, empty reassurances. 

"...extremely lucky someone found... ...sorry for your loss... ...still young... ...always time to..." 

"Bright Lady..." He ripped himself away form the torrent of memories, shaking, trying to swallow past the sudden lump in his throat. "Dom, you could have... If I had known..." 

She looked up at him, a sad, wry smile on her face. "I didn't know what to say." 

End 


End file.
